


What I hold in my hand

by kameo_chan



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kameo_chan/pseuds/kameo_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every night, he comes to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I hold in my hand

He is silent, as always, when he comes to her. She can see his shadow lingering on the ground in front of her in the dying light of the campfire, a beast looming over her under cover of darkness. She pretends sleep, because it is easier on both of them when morning comes. It makes things less difficult by light of day, when she feigns ignorance even though they are both aware of the lie.

Fenris’ weight is a heavy stone against her back; perhaps Hawke’s dog seeking comfort against the cold. His breath in her ear is the sigh of the wind through age-stricken boughs. And when he shuffles around and drags her breeches down just enough to enter her with a silencing hand over her mouth, then it is a dream. Mahariel is behind her, petting her hair as he thrusts inside her, hurried and hushed.

She can forgive him this, she thinks, eyes still closed and breath even and regulated. They are both worse off for not having what their hearts desire. She pities him, even: this broken elf with his glowing scars and his searing eyes.

“I know you’re awake,” he grinds out against her neck, teeth dangerously close to her skin. A more aptly named being she has never met, and she shivers at his touch when he strokes a hand down her belly to cup her, fingers warm and hard against the softness of her flesh.

“No,” she whispers back, leans into his warmth. “You are asleep.” Fenris sucks in a deep breath, speeds up the snapping of his hips and spills himself deep inside her.

“I hate you,” he growls at her, bitter and angry as usual.

“I know,” she sighs. Nothing will ever change between them, not while she still seeks to bring back what was lost and not while he refuses to let go of what has happened. They are both cracked beyond repair, much like the Eluvian she had once sought so desperately to restore.

In the morning he walks by her and sneers. It does not matter. Merrill splays a hand against the gentle curve of her belly and thinks of her people. Perhaps one day, he will look at her and not see a blood mage or an abomination, she thinks. If the ancient peoples of Thedas could tame wolves to breed dogs, then she will wait until his snarling hatred turns to acceptance. But until then, she will lie awake every night, pretending to be asleep until he comes.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Grasping Tightly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4706309) by [Nightheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightheart/pseuds/Nightheart)




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